Sunday, May 8, 2016

A Boucing Ball

Our hobbies define who we choose to become. It may happen early in our childhood, watching your brother swing a bat, your cousin painting, or a collection of stamps your grandfather left you.

Sometimes, our hobbies are just hobbies. We don't have a true meaning for them. In our boredom we turn to them to past the time. Hobbies sometimes though take us away from the world we currently live in. We stride to become something bigger than our self, something bigger in the world, and something to be remembered by.

My hobby is basketball. It begun when I was a young child, I do not recall the first time I saw it, or the first time I picked up a ball, but I do remember all the great times I had with it during my childhood. With the adversity I faced, I turned to my hobby of basketball to guide me on a path. I could put on some headphones and shoot around for hours each day after school, lost in my own world.

I was never any good during my youth, I never took it serious. I pretended like most kids brought up in Chicago, that I was Air Jordan himself. That I could fly like an eagle, that maybe one day I could suit up in that red jersey with my last time on the back of it. It was a dream, not a goal. I knew it would never become reality, but it was not about making something of myself, it was about taking me somewhere else. Away from the life I had.

To me basketball is more than a sport that James Naismith created in 1891, it was more than the ten players on the court attempting to score baskets. It was about finding myself, it was about removing the hatred in my life. I did not choose the game, it choose me. 

Even to this day, I can throw on some headphones, drive to the nearest hoop and shoot around for an hour, lost in my world. Pretending I was Michael himself, while my game has developed quite a bit since my youth, I'm still that same kid on the court, admiring the game itself. 

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